Case Number 19832

THE THIN RED LINE (BLU-RAY) CRITERION COLLECTION

The Charge

Do you imagine your suffering will be any less because you loved goodness and
truth?

Opening Statement

Barring a few exceptions, I'm not a big fan of films driven by special
effects. As impressive as the visuals may be, I just can't bring myself to care
very much about robots blowing up tanks. As these are the films that have
benefited the most from high definition so far, I've had a burning question as
to why I really needed a Blu-ray player. I finally have my reason. While a war
film, one with a whole lot of explosions at that, The Thin Red Line is a
beautiful tone poem on the banality of combat and the troubled relationship
between man and nature. I can't believe how it looks on Blu-ray. Criterion's
edition is a visual wonder, the best I've ever seen, and my absolute
justification for the high definition format.

Facts of the Case

Based on the novel by James Jones about his experiences in WWII, we find
ourselves in Guadalcanal, the heart of the Pacific Theater, with a company of
infantrymen led by Lt. Col. Gordon Tall (Nick Nolte, Affliction). He's an
aging, power-hungry officer with little regard for his men, who orders his men
to take a hill rife with Japanese soldiers. It's no doubt a suicide mission, but
if they can take the bunker on the ridge, it may turn the tide of the war.

The Evidence

Piecing out a plot in The Thin Red Line is not so easy; the film is
less a dramatic story than a series of events. While that makes for difficult
coherent description, this is entirely the intention of director Terence Malick
(The New World), in his return to film after a two decade hiatus. Can you
describe the plot of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass? Poetry doesn't lend
itself to such things, nor does The Thin Red Line. The film is one of
images, feelings, and meditation; it is something you experience more than
watch. It's a long and daunting, but supremely compelling film. If it isn't the
very best war picture ever made, it is certainly the most beautiful.

One of cinema's masters at nature direction, Malick reached the pinnacle in
The Thin Red Line, creating an all-time great scenic film. Shot in
Australia and Guadalcanal, the film features some of the most striking images
I've ever seen, shots of such breathtaking beauty that it's almost hard to
believe such things actually exist. Pause the film at almost any moment and
you'll see a frame worthy of hanging on a wall. Nearly the entire film is shot
out of doors, and any interiors are dark, confining spaces. The exteriors,
though, are expansive, seemingly without end. Malick embraces the freedom of the
outdoors, harsh and unforgiving as it may be.

That sense of freedom enters into the narrative, as well. The first soldier
we meet is Pvt. Witt (James Caviezel, The Passion of the Christ), an AWOL
infantryman who has made a happy little place for himself living with the native
Melanesian people of Guadalcanal. Like them, he lives off the land without
amenity, but is completely happy away from the confines of his unit. Almost
immediately, a lone naval vessel floats near shore. He knows they've come for
him and, while the ship is landing near there anyway to partake in this battle,
the freedom in nature he experienced no longer exists while with his unit.

Man's relationship to nature is one of the major themes of the film. Though
there are plenty of films that deal with such topics, rarely are they as
meditative or poetic as this. In the opening shot of the film, we see a
crocodile creep slowly into the marsh. It's a languorous shot of an animal
totally at peace with its environment (never mind the havoc it'll soon wreak
against its prey). The shot doesn't mean much by itself, just the first of many
such images. We only see a croc one other time during the film, a bound and
distressed specimen that, now that it has been rendered harmless, the soldiers
are taunting. Malick isn't claiming that man necessarily aims at superiority
over nature, but some do. This contrasts very nicely, however, with the oneness
of man and nature in the opening sequence with Witt. Malick adds into this
relationship with the nature-scarring effects of the battlefield. The soldiers
march through scorched earth with pristine wilderness in the background, sad
imagery that puts in no uncertain terms the relationship has with nature during
wartime.

On this viewing, what struck me most about The Thin Red Line was how
my impressions of the performances have changed. In 1998, aside from the few and
brief appearances from major stars like George Clooney (Intolerable
Cruelty) and John Travolta (Battlefield Earth), most of the actors in
the film were obscure, at best. Then, in fatigues and covered with mud, each and
every character looked exactly the same. The anonymity was very effective.
Things have changed in the years since the film was released. By whatever
combination of expert casting and coincidence, the infantrymen became a list of
some of todays top actors. Now that I know the faces of Adrien Brody
(Predators), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Before the Devil Knows You're
Dead), and Tom Jane (The Mist), the effect is considerably
diminished, but it's easier to appreciate the individual performances, which are
mostly understated and excellent. One of the few exceptions is Nolte, at his
blustery best barking orders to Elias Koteas (Defendor).

Criterion has gone above and beyond with their Blu-ray release. It is
spectacular in every way and is immediately one of the best discs in all my
collection. The original release was quite good at the time, with a strong
transfer and DTS sound. The new high-definition transfer that Criterion has put
together and Malick supervised is amazing. There is incredible detail throughout
the picture, with so much more in the frame than was visible in any previous
edition. Whether it is the blades of grass, the distant birds, or the gun
tracers, everything is visible now; I thought it was beautiful before, but I had
no idea. Sound, likewise, is fabulous, and comes with the funny recommendation
that Terence Malick suggests you play the movie loud. He's correct, of course,
there is a wide range of volume between the soft voices and the massive
explosions, so it is important. Be prepared for some ear-piercing sounds,
though.

The supplements are up to Criterion's usual high standards. The audio
commentary with cinematographer John Toll, production designer Jack Fisk, and
producer Grant Hill is detailed and intelligent. Three featurettes give us an
even deeper look into the film. The first features interviews with the actors
that includes plenty of audition footage, some from unlikely names who did not
make the cut. The other two, one with the editing team and the other with
composer Hans Zimmer (Beyond Rangoon), tell very similar stories about
the director's strangely distant relationship to his film. An additional
interview with Kaylie Jones, daughter of the original author, is pretty amusing.
Speaking of Jones, in addition to the customary essay on the film, the booklet
includes an archival essay from the writer on what disgusts him about war films
and it is a hoot to read. Newsreel footage, recordings of Melanesian music, and
a trailer round us out. There's a lot of value here, both in quantity and
quality.

Closing Statement

The Thin Red Line is unquestionably my favorite war film, probably not
coincidentally because it has less to do with actual war than most. For his
incredibly sparse body of work, Terence Malick is a master filmmaker who
captures nature like no one else; this picture has an otherworldly beauty that
is deeply affecting to me. It doesn't hurt that Criterion has done so well with
their Blu-ray release. I've very impressed; this is almost certainly my pick for
Blu-ray of the year.